Explain The Infinite
by TheVelvetDusk
Summary: It seems like she's subsequently become a magnet for disaster, all while the panorama of history shifts like fickle sand beneath her feet. Some day they'll go down together, and today might be that day. [ canon through season 1, set somewhat aimlessly in the ambiguous future ]
1. Chapter 1

_a/n : All aboard the Lyatt train, kiddos. This is set somewhere in the future, don't even really know when, but it is canon-compliant with season 1. _The_ _fic title is lifted from the lyrics of Saturn by Sleeping at Last. That song is so good it hurts (kinda like these feels, man). Don't own Timeless, but these scenes definitely lived in my head for long enough that they had to be written down.__

 _**WARNING** \- this one is darker/weirder than some of my other stuff and one character maybe has a bit of a death wish here..? Wanted to put that out there just in case it affects anyone! _

* * *

The lights are out and the room is silent, but he couldn't be more awake if he tried. The noise in his head is louder than an air raid.

 _"I don't know what happens today because the journal doesn't tell me everything. Lucy didn't write out everything...and what is written does sometimes sound crazy, like a different Lucy."_

Wyatt sighs, punches his pillow, and turns over for the millionth time. At least he doesn't have to worry about waking Lucy tonight. No, she's deeply entrenched in a self-inflicted wine stupor, one that he'd readily enabled over the course of the last few hours. Someone ought to be knocked out into undisturbed oblivion for once, and she needs it more than he does.

He finds no real comfort in sleep anyhow these days, so the slamming force of insomnia doesn't bother him too much.

No, the true source of frustration stems from his own hubris. He's spent a lifetime charging full steam ahead, seeking to accomplish every assigned task with single-minded compliance. That's just the way he's been wired. Carry out the orders. Complete the mission. Don't ask why.

And it usually works for him, especially in the stagnant years that followed Jess' murder, because action is far more soothing than the alternative.

But now he feels handicapped by his blindness. He's no better than a well-trained dog, a programmed robot. He's always so sure that he's on the right side of things, and that might be the end of him this time.

The objective - the original one, from the night he'd first paid a visit to Mason Industries, the night Lucy Preston had initially flickered across his radar - had been simple. Stop Garcia Flynn. No other stipulations. Just eliminate the threat, whatever the cost.

He sees it so clearly now. He's been a damn puppet on the strings of Rittenhouse, just like everyone else.

Everyone _but_ Flynn, that is. Flynn, who had apparently told Wyatt the truth in that stupid hotel room so long ago. It's sickening to think how stubborn he'd been, so high and mighty in spite of the fact that he was the one holed up against his will for hours, helplessly confined while Lucy and Rufus searched all over D.C. for a tape that no longer existed.

 _"...and what is written does sometimes sound crazy, like a different Lucy..."_

Those words haunt him, chase away any hope he has of sleeping, because it's happening right in front of his eyes. It's a bad prophecy rapidly spinning to life, turning into certified reality with each passing day. He's got to do something to stop it.

Eliminate the threat, whatever the cost.

How foolish he's been, not seeing that this cost is far too high to ever be calculated.

He's losing her even as she lies right next to him. He just knows it.

* * *

 _\- three weeks later -_

* * *

She's going to lose her last meal all over the platform. She just knows it.

Her life has become an endless refrain of vivid, breathless showdowns. How she's survived this many close calls is beyond her, although the tiny shred of clarity that still occupies her brain tells her that Wyatt Logan is the sole reason she hasn't surrendered herself to the growing list of casualties that trail behind them, stacking up preposterously high throughout the decades.

It's nearly impossible to list out every appointment she's made with impending calamity. The initial jump seems to have set the proverbial ball in motion and it hasn't slowed down since. She still remembers every extraordinary detail - fire and ash raining down all around her as the frame of the Hindenburg crackled and burned to pieces, Flynn giving her that first glimpse of the damn journal right before he'd tried to use her body as a shield against Wyatt's bullet, the shock of being flung to the ground as the discharge of both guns thundered around her.

It seems like she's subsequently become a magnet for disaster. It's a far cry from the quiet life she'd known as a college professor and published author.

Because everything is different, isn't it? Nothing is recognizable now that she's been unwillingly tasked with the prestige of an elite bloodline that's been crafted for centuries. She really is light-years away from her old mundane existence in faculty lounges and bookstores now that she's straddling the fence between two insurmountable entities, all while the panorama of history shifts like fickle sand beneath her feet. Homeland Security has her, Rittenhouse wants her.

She thinks it would be better if they both just went to hell and left her out of it, but no one's asking for her opinion.

It's amazing to think that she actually longs for the days when she'd naively believed that their one true enemy was Garcia Flynn. It had been easier to swallow those odds. Today - in the present, of all places - she wishes she had something so steadfast to cling to, wishes for an answer that is spelled out in simple black and white.

But that's a useless notion, isn't it? Because even Flynn is a charcoal drawing, blurry and grayscale. He's neither right nor wrong. None of them are.

And that's why Lucy is ready to lay down the fight; she's hit her limit. She's had it with all the white noise of her existence.

To put it in more dire terms, she's about two seconds from standing up and striding right into the middle of the chaos that's overtaken Mason Industries, because maybe it's time she embraces her doomed fate and just lets the darkness close in over her for good. Maybe her nine lives are all used up at last. Maybe she's gone through all of her chances and found herself at the end of a very long road, bone-weary and bankrupt.

She almost shrieks as a hand claps over her mouth but she manages to choke back that reaction, thinking that the whirlwind of her morbid thoughts have already become reality. The universe is coming to collect on the wretched weakness that surrounds her. _That was fast_.

But no, it's not the universe. Not yet.

It's Rufus who spins her around, releasing her mouth once she's facing him but keeping a finger to his own lips as a signal for her to remain silent. Glass shatters from somewhere beyond the shelter of the Lifeboat and she decides that maybe he's too late. Maybe a bullet will still find a way to ricochet back here and pierce her through the heart, or a thorny shard from of one of those gigantic windows will fall on her and steal her away from all of the carnage.

There must be wildness painted in her eyes because Rufus is gripping her arms in a nearly painful hold, shaking her like he needs to wake her up from a bad dream. It's a shame that this dream is more real than anything she's ever known.

"Lucy, c'mon, we can't stay here," he whispers, his gaze flinging haphazardly around the poor covering of the time machine.

He's right, this is no place to avoid death. They're completely exposed on one side, defenseless. All it will take is for one member of Emma's infantry to wander off in their direction and then they're both sunk.

And that's what it takes to motivate her - the value of his life.

He's Rufus, after all. Rufus, the one with a quick, self-deprecating sense of humor that has helped her cope with all of the senseless horrors that they've witnessed since they first landed in 1937, both of them being so wide-eyed and nearsighted at the very beginning of this nightmare. Rufus, who has loyally stood by her side as she's attempted to navigate her life's greatest trial, always willing to lend an ear or give a hug when she needs it. Rufus, who is open about his feelings and offers friendship as easily as if it were air. Rufus, who invites her over and helps her get better at Mario Kart and makes great margaritas. Rufus, who loves Jiya and must be out of his mind with the worry that she could return to Mason Industries at any given moment without a clue of what awaits her.

Lucy's legs won't move, though. She tries, honestly she does, but she's still crouching behind the metallic shadow of the Lifeboat even as he's crawling off of the platform and dropping to the floor below. He looks back, motions violently for her to follow, but she simply shakes her head.

"I can't," she mouths at him, "go without me."

His face is bewildered and off balance. He obviously cannot comprehend why she's letting the debris of battle bury her in its wake, what could ever possess her to take such an illogical risk, but there's no time to explain. Wyatt - out of sight but never far away - is shouting something in a battered, urgent voice. She wishes she could understand his words, but her ears are ringing and everything else is indistinct. Rufus staggers to his knees and covers his head. She's probably supposed to do the same.

She doesn't.

There's a loud bang, more crunching glass, a fierce heat that engulfs her skin, and Lucy wonders if this is finally it. If this is what it feels like to get erased from the planet.

Her last thought is that Amy might be waiting for her on the other side. Can someone who - by historical standards, anyway - never existed in a new timeline still be on the welcoming committee in the afterlife?

Lucy is about to find out.

* * *

 _to be continued!_


	2. Chapter 2

Pain erupts all over. Her arms. Her face. Her knees.

She wishes someone would turn down the volume on those awful screams, because _goddamn it_ her head is already throbbing enough without the added hostility of that barbaric noise.

Or at least that's what she wishes until she realizes those gruesome screams are ripping from her own throat.

"I'm sorry, Lucy. It didn't have to be this way. I tried to warn you."

For once it's not Emma reciting the same old tired lines. No, that voice is different, well-acquainted, and it packs a walloping punch when Lucy recognizes the lilting syllables. It's a voice that used to sing her to sleep once upon a time, lulling her into sweet dreams.

It's her mother and this is no dream.

She blinks up at them vacantly. _All_ of them. Four pairs of eyes stare down at her with varying degrees of malice. Her mom, Emma, and the two square-shaped thugs who have enforced Emma's orders for the better part of a year now, the ones who have left Wyatt bloodied and bruised on far too many occasions.

And now Lucy is at the center of their scrutiny. At the center of Rittenhouse.

 _What else is new?_

Everything is ablaze. The tables, the computers, what's left of the Lifeboat, _everything_ , maybe even her. She feels like a charred marshmallow that's been skewered over the campfire for too long. Her opponents - well, three of them, anyway - look like they've been through the wringer too.

It's fair to assume that Wyatt is responsible for the affliction that envelops her, but now he's nowhere to be found. His fingerprint is all over this spectacle, though. A steady stream of blood trickles down Emma's brow, soaking into the disarrayed strands of her hair, creating a bizarre composite of clashing reds. The man with a sleeve of tattoos is precariously shifting all of his weight onto one foot, and his sinewy counterpart is cradling a limp hand against his rib cage.

Her mother, however, must be the most recent arrival of the four. She looks like she's just descended from Olympus, unscathed and dignified, glowing with pride at the destruction that rages around her.

"It's time to go," she croons with a ghastly smile.

Lucy glances beyond them. An eye for an eye, she supposes. Wyatt and Rufus had forcibly dismantled the Mothership three days ago, removing crucial pieces of equipment and shooting a few holes in the damn thing just to be safe, and Lucy has been living in absolute terror ever since. There was no question in her mind - there would be retribution. It was always going to come to this. Sooner or later, Rittenhouse would even the score. Sooner or later, sooner or later...

Apparently they had decided to go with sooner.

The two henchmen wedge their calloused hands beneath Lucy's arms, dragging her to her feet. She howls at the blistering agony of the forced movement, but there's no use in fighting them. She's dizzy and fading away, hollowed out like she's been crushed by a giant boulder and doesn't have a bone left in her body.

And the last thing she'd wanted was to be taken as a prisoner - no, she would easily welcome death ahead of _this_ \- but she's tired of making hard choices and maybe it will be nice to let someone else call the shots for now. Her mom's always been good at that, hasn't she? Ready to advise her daughter at all times, pointing Lucy toward the right path when she was too indecisive to choose for herself, giving her a clear outline of the best life she could possibly live.

Why has she been struggling against the inevitable? She's favored the idea of fate for most of her life, and now she sees that she's been right all along. Sometimes you can't escape the course that's set before you. Destiny is far more complex than Wyatt made it out to be; it's an unyielding concept that cannot be whittled down to the simple act of picking up a wine glass and taking a drink.

She plans to tell him that if she ever sees him again.

The all too familiar crack of gunfire explodes from somewhere behind her. The captor on her left side loosens his grip first, then falters to the ground. The guy on her right follows suit less than a second later. Lucy stumbles, catches herself before she trips over their fallen bodies, but she doesn't get far. She's too unsteady. She drops to her knees and then cries out at the resounding wave of pain and nausea that crests over her.

"Lucy _, no_!"

It's Wyatt. It's always Wyatt, isn't it? She wishes he didn't sound so heartbroken.

She wants to twist backward to get one last look at him, to assure him that she hasn't been struck by a stray bullet, but she can't find the strength to do so. And she can't afford to distract him either. Emma is ducking nearby, returning several shots of her own in his direction.

Lucy uses her only scrap of remaining willpower to pray that Wyatt lives. Not just that he lives, but that he emerges from all of this misery and finds peace once and for and all. That he moves on, puts down roots in a new place with new people. She just wants him to go far away, to be so far removed from the hellish landscape of her life that there's no chance of him getting hurt anymore.

Because she can't be like Jessica. She can't be one more regret pressing down on his already too-heavy heart.

She feels tears cutting through the grime on her cheeks. She remembers the friction of his fingertips on her skin, how his touch lights her up from the inside out. She smiles at the memory of his gruff morning voice as he burrows further into the white pillowcase, begging her to hit the snooze button one more time. And God, the way the ocean fills his eyes. His laugh, low and sultry as it rumbles through her hair. The smug smile, the _real_ smile behind it, and the easy grin that appears right before he turns the lamp off late at night and rolls her beneath him. His adept body, his compact shape. The refuge of his solid arms. The musty smell of the first edition books he surprises her with on her birthday, the buttery croissants he buys for her on his way home. The taste of his favorite bourbon on his tongue when he pulls her closer. And then there's the way he's been watching her lately, with fearful suspicion darkening his gaze, as if she might vanish into the night and leave him all alone again.

She thinks of how she can set him free. She's only been hanging on for him, for them - Wyatt and Rufus. That's all she has left these days. They're the ones she'll leave behind.

A hand wraps around Lucy's wrist, and then her mother's face appears, a vague apparition in clouds of thick smoke. "Come, Lucy. Before it's too late."

She does nothing but coughs in response, her head pounding and voice broken. Wyatt is calling for her, but the words are lost in the shuffle as several more clips spring from Emma's gun. Her mom tugs her further away from the uproar while Lucy gags and sputters. This isn't the way she's imagined it. She doesn't want to witness his grief, his struggle. It's not the clean tragedy that she's fabricated for herself.

No, this isn't the premonition that she'd been entertaining in her mind's eye, and she suddenly sympathizes deeply with Bonnie Parker, grieving her altered demise all over again. Lucy finally understands her anguish. It's terrifying to go down this way, isn't it?

But it can't be changed now. There's one last burst of artillery before the unfathomable happens.

A masculine grunt, a telltale thud.

Lucy sobs as she hears it, and she collapses to the floor in spite of her mother's best efforts to steer her forward.

"No, no, Wyatt..."

She's hyperventilating. She's drowning, gasping, sinking. She's never felt more claustrophobic, not even in the tomb of a capsizing car. A world without Wyatt is far too small.

Her mom is urging her to move, but she's incapable of doing anything at all.

The final lines of a long-cherished poem echo in her ears. It's the benediction that's led to her ruin.

 _Some day they'll go down together;  
_ _And they'll bury them side by side;  
_ _To few it'll be grief  
_ _To the law a relief  
_ _But it's death for Bonnie and Clyde._

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 _a/n : more to come! all reviews welcome, even if you're mad at me ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

There's a hole in his arm. It burns and prickles for an instant, knocks him backward with the force of impact, but he grits his teeth and pushes it out of his mind. He isn't dying tonight and neither is she.

Smoke is pouring from the scorched remains of the Lifeboat, making it increasingly more difficult to keep an eye on Lucy. Blowing up the Lifeboat had certainly not been part of Agent Christopher's game plan, but Wyatt has his own agenda that no longer includes garnering the approval of his superiors. He's cutting the strings and making his own plays now.

Eliminate the threat, whatever the cost.

He can scarcely hear his name carrying over the ravaging decay. Lucy is gasping it out between labored breaths, and he spits blood at the sound of it. The only consolation is that there's no way she could still be crying like that if she had been mortally wounded. The fact that he can hear her at all is his one point of solace.

He waits. It hurts him to do so, because Lucy thinks he's dead and he feels extraordinarily cruel for allowing her to believe that for even one single second, but it's what he _needs_ her to believe. What he needs all of them to believe.

Emma emerges after several beats, rising from the smoldering rubble with a celebratory look. She keeps her Glock aimed in his direction as she picks her way across the battlefield of Mason Industries. She's talking to someone else now, slightly distracted as she addresses what must be the unidentified fourth member of her team, but still he waits. He'll only get one chance to do this right and he's not wasting it.

Because he can't let himself lose her. She can't be like Jessica. He's sure he won't survive it a second time.

Emma glances over her shoulder once more, eyes scanning the general area where she's last seen him, and he's so ready to blast that pompous expression right off of her damn face. His mama raised him to never use foul names to describe a lady, but there's no way around it - Emma is a conniving bitch that he'll gladly exterminate once and for all.

And then - at long last - she finally holsters her gun with a repulsive smile. "We need to find the other one...Rufus Carlin. We'll have to find a way to salvage the Mothership since they blew their own Lifeboat to smithereens, and he's the only one who can fix it."

There's a muffled response to her statement, but Wyatt can't make it out over the drone of the flames. Emma stoops to the ground, and he breathes a curse as he loses her for a moment.

But then she stands again, and he has to bite down harshly on his own lip to stop the torturous sound that builds in the back of his throat. There's an arm slung around Emma's shoulder, and that arm belongs to Lucy.

There's someone on the other side of Lucy too, a woman with a slim build and a blunt swish of dark brown hair, the one who had immediately disappeared when he'd taken out the other two Rittenhouse stooges. He isn't sure how she factors into all of this, but seeing as she's amicably conversing with Emma and assisting in the task of hauling Lucy away from him, he figures it doesn't matter who she is or why she's here. She's one of them and that automatically puts her in his crosshairs.

Eliminate the threat, whatever the cost.

He lines up his shot and takes it without hesitation. Emma goes down hard, and this time he knows she's not coming back up.

There's no time to bask in the satisfaction of her defeat, though. The second woman reacts too quickly, whirling Lucy in front of her and producing a gun out of thin air, shoving it roughly against Lucy's temple with a glare of defiance.

And with the fire raging around them and the coppery blood he tastes in his mouth, it's impossible not to see the parallels. So much has happened between then and now, so many narrow escapes and heart-rendering brushes with death, but isn't it just so damn poetic that this scenario is back to bite him in the ass one last time.

There are, however, two very important - very _alarming_ \- differences.

One, Lucy isn't struggling or pleading with him to save her. It's been scary enough to see that blank look gradually settling over her features in the last several weeks, but there aren't words to describe how it devastates him now. She's outside of herself, removed from the situation and floating somewhere far, far away. She's signed herself over to whatever happens next, apathetic to the outcome. He recognizes it in a flash, because he's worn the same look, felt the same indifference at the chasm between life and death. In his lowest moments, he'd been sure that death would be the better resolution. And despite everything he's worked so hard to accomplish in the last month, the countless ways he's sought to prevent this end result, there she is with those static eyes, ready for the last curtain call.

Two, the woman with a finger hovering over the trigger is much smaller than Garcia Flynn. She's got maybe an inch or two on Lucy, but nothing more, which means Wyatt's options are severely limited. And if that's not enough to wrestle the air from his lungs, Lucy's voice from right after that first mission oozes through his brain - _You just that good or was I that expendable?_ \- and he almost allows the weight of the memory to overpower him. She's never been expendable, not even back then, but now she's everything, a vital part of his very existence. Even if he had a somewhat clean shot at her captor, he's still not sure he could risk it.

Wyatt steps forward, his gun steady and eyes laser-focused. He's got no better plan than to stall, praying to heaven that he can suspend the clock for just long enough until Rufus or Agent Christopher or _anyone_ can come to his aid. They've all manipulated time over and over again, haven't they? Is there a chance that the pendulum will swing in his direction one more time now that it really counts?

"I'm going to have to ask you to stop there, Master Sergeant Logan."

Of course she knows who he is, because what the hell don't these Rittenhouse creeps know?

"Sure," he says with a grimace, "now I'm going to have to ask you to release her and then we have a deal."

"Lucy has eluded her birthright for long enough," she replies with calm, eerie resolve. "It's time for her to take her proper place with us."

Her words send a chill over his spine, and then recognition sparks to life like a bolt of lightening from the sky. "You...you're Carol Preston."

She confirms with a smile of acknowledgement and takes a step backwards, dragging Lucy with her. "Yes. Lucy's mother, to be more specific."

Wyatt has only seen the pictures on file, has never encountered her in person, and of course she's done a few things to alter her appearance now that she's been outed as one of the highest ranking members of Rittenhouse. Her hair is dyed darker, cut shorter and choppier than how she used to wear it, but he still feels foolish for not placing her right away.

"Well I wish I could say that it's nice to finally make the acquaintance, but you'll understand if I skip the pleasantries given the circumstances. For future reference, this isn't the way I prefer to meet the parents."

Her smile dims and her chin rises with the stubborn edge of indignation. "You aren't fit to clean the mud off of my daughter's shoes, let alone do you have any right to a relationship with her. You've been nothing but a thorn in our side for years now."

That last part throws him off for an instant, because _years_ feels like a bit of an embellishment where he and Lucy are concerned, but he shakes it off without another thought.

"You've got one thing right, at least." He smirks and takes another half-step forward. "Lucy _is_ too good for me. And would you look at that - we already have something in common, Ms. Preston."

She snorts and clenches the gun more firmly between white fingers. "We have _nothing_ in common. Now stop moving or else I'll - "

"You'll what? Shoot your own daughter in the head? It's going to be awfully hard to appoint her to the top of the Rittenhouse pyramid if she's got a bullet lodged in her skull."

"It's what the rest of the organization has been calling for," she responds with barely restrained resentment. "She's been nothing but trouble since Garcia Flynn's arrest. Rebellion comes with a price."

Wyatt snickers, but there's bile surging in his gut. "So that's really what you're here to do? End Lucy's life to clear the way for world domination? That's pretty damn cold, even for an insane Hitler wannabee like you."

"You mock us, Wyatt, but you only know a fraction of the power we hold over you and your kind. We're not just woven into the backdrop of this nation's history as a grand-scale stakeholder in the events that matter most...no, we're much closer than that. Much closer to _you_ , even."

"That's hardly news to me," he scoffs, "you Rittenhouse bastards have been up my ass for nearly two years now."

She releases a biting laugh. "Oh, it's been much longer than that, hasn't it? More like what, five years now? Or is it six? Time sure flies, dear."

He stiffens instantly. She can't possibly mean -

"There's that look. Not too different than the one on your wife's face when she realized that she'd made the wrong enemies and couldn't outrun us anymore."

It's an absurd statement. Jessica had been a lot of things, but secretive was never one of them. Beautiful, lively, maybe a little too gutsy at times, but ultimately bright and innocent. Uncomplicated. He'd been the one with demons, a bad family name and not two nickels to rub together, plus a rocketing temper that only worsened once he'd returned from his last tour of duty, but _Jess_? She was beloved by all. She had no enemies, especially not the type of enemies who would lie, steal, and kill to alter the course of time for their own twisted purposes.

"I see I have your attention now, don't I?" She shakes her head at him with something that resembles pity. "I have the answers to questions you've been asking for years, Wyatt...and there are some questions you haven't even _thought_ to ask. Put the gun down and those answers will be yours for the taking."

"Don't give me that bullshit," he spits out in return. "You'll say anything to get out of here in one piece. You don't know a thing about Jessica, and what's worse is that this isn't even original material. Stop reading out of Flynn's playbook. It's lazy."

She grins at him, her teeth gleaming in the glow of firelight. "Flynn's information was worthless, though, wasn't it? All that work and so little payoff. You saved the lives of two others, but couldn't bring your own wife back from the dead. And all at the cost of an innocent man, of course, but who can blame you for that? Things just got a little out of control, didn't they?"

"How do you - "

"Flynn gave you the _who_ , Wyatt, but the who has always been inconsequential. Wes Gilliam was a hired gun, nothing more. It's the _why_ that tells the real story."

He inhales sharply, but still cannot draw a full breath. He desperately needs a dose of clarity, so he gives into the one impulse that he's been resisting this whole time. He steals a glimpse of Lucy's face.

Her dark eyes puncture his heart all over again. She's present. She's heard every word. And in that split-second, he knows exactly what she wants him to do. He hears it loud and clear even in her silence. Her expression leaves no room for interpretation. She's telling him - urging him, even - to take the truth and run. To make the trade and let her go.

To choose Jess instead of Lucy.

Their wordless exchange takes place in just the blink of an eye, no longer than a speck of sand falling from one end of the hourglass to the other, but of course that's a mistake. It's over in a second, but even a second is too long.

Carol whips the gun away from her daughter's head and aims it at Wyatt instead.

The bullet leaves the barrel with a deafening roar.

Lucy shrieks his name, clawing at her mother's arm with a sudden flare of revolt.

Wyatt drops and rolls, realigns his shot. Fires.

Eliminate the threat, whatever the cost.

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 _thanks for reading! please review :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_a/n: look look, I didn't make you wait too long in agony, did I? Loved the reviews on the last chapter, please keep 'em coming :)_

* * *

He's afraid to touch her.

It's not the first time he's ever felt that way, but it is the first time in a very long time, and _God_ is it ever unsettling to be back in this place. If there's one thing he's come to depend on over the last year, it's that her body against his always makes sense. She fills in every dark bit of uncertainty with her soft warmth, a safe port in the eye of the storm, a bit of salve for his soul. And the circumstances that led them down this road to each other are far from orthodox, but for what it's worth, he's always been sure that she needs him just as much as he needs her. They are unmistakably tethered to each other, never straying too far due to a mutual fear of loss and heartache that neither of them could bear.

But now, while coughing and spewing black smoke from his lungs, Wyatt fears that his touch will only bring her pain. There's the obvious physical pain that's already evident even from several feet away, and undoubtedly even worse, there's bound to be serious emotional repercussions too.

Government agents swarm into the room with weapons raised, Agent Christopher limping slowly behind them, and shouts of panic reverberate through the dingy haze. Mason Industries is crumbling to pieces all around them and they need to get the hell out of this inferno before the whole place caves in above their heads.

Which means he's got to stop being such a damn coward about this.

"Lucy..." his voice cracks, and he coughs again as he steps nearer, distantly registering the throbbing discomfort that flashes through him as he does so.

She continues to kneel beside her mother as blood spirals around them, staring impassively at Carol's ashen face and not uttering a word. Wyatt meticulously examines her from where he stands above her, mournfully cataloging each tender spot of skin that's been seared and scraped in the explosion. The visible burns on her arms and legs are mostly second degree, and while he'd like to crucify himself for the fact that he's more or less caused these injuries himself, he also knows it could have been a lot worse.

And of course Lucy was never supposed to be anywhere near the damn time machine when it detonated, but he can't say that he's surprised. She's never taken well to being ordered around, so it should have been on his radar that she might not evacuate to the opposite side of the facility with the rest of the civilians at the first sign of trouble. Why would he ever expect for this to go off without any complications?

Especially lately, when every move she makes is less predictable than the last.

Wyatt crouches next to her and places his hand on her elbow, because it looks relatively free from harm and he's got to get control of this situation before they have another crisis on their hands. "Lucy? I-I'm sorry, Luce, but we have to - "

She turns toward him abruptly, eyes frozen in shock and mouth trembling. He tries to prepare himself for what will come next, whether it'll be a burst of furious anger or a curt brush-off, and that's assuming she's even capable of reacting at all so soon after what just went down. After all, it's not every day that your boyfriend shoots your mom right in front of your eyes.

But as it turns out, he's way off base, and Wyatt has never been so happy to be proven wrong in his life.

Lucy throws herself at him and he catches her reflexively, his arms twining around her as he drops a knee to the floor for balance.

"Why?" she cries into the crook of his shoulder, huddling as close as she can against his chest, "why would you...why didn't you - "

His eyes slam shut and his teeth clamp down rigidly. He's torn to shreds at the anguish in her stammered words, and there's no sense in answering her, not when he can't offer anything to possibly ease her grief. He just rests his head on top of hers and holds on with everything he has, ignoring the strain that their embrace is putting on his injured arm. Everything else is secondary to the revelation that she's going to be okay. She's alive and she's with him, exactly where she belongs.

Agent Christopher calls out to him from across the room, gives him an order that he barely processes, and Wyatt makes a gruff noise that hopefully communicates his understanding. His head is spinning but his job isn't over until they're far away from this hellhole.

He inhales heavily, releases a deep breath, refocuses. "We have to go, Lucy. It's not safe in here."

She nods into him but doesn't let go. Her hands are balled up in the front of his shirt and he has no interest in disentangling her from him, but he also knows that carrying her is most likely out of the question. Last he checked, there's a bullet that could still be embedded inside of his arm, not to mention the burns and blisters that speckle across her pale skin. They're probably already inflicting unheeded damage to those wounds by holding onto each other so tightly, and he can't be the reason that she gets hurt any worse.

Wyatt settles for gingerly pulling her to her feet with one arm still around her, but then her eyelids flutter and she sways precariously, causing his heart to slam achingly against his rib cage as his hands shift around her waist to steady her. "Lucy - "

She blinks hard, then runs a shaky hand over his chest. "I'm okay."

The words are meager at best and it does little to reassure him, but something crashes nearby and he's instantly on a different kind of alert. Wyatt reaches for his holster and tries to avoid jostling any part of Lucy that could cause her further pain. It would be just his luck for a full-on army of Rittenhouse mercenaries to fall out of the sky right about now, and in case those asshats haven't already gotten the message, he's not in the mood to take prisoners today. If they think they have even the slightest chance of stepping onto his turf without a fight any time soon, it's their funeral.

He's doing what he can to mentally fortify himself for another onslaught, but once he casts a wary glance around the battered facility, his adrenaline flatlines.

There's no new threat. The racket has been caused by nothing more than Rufus crawling out from under a jumble of debris, bleary-eyed and cautious with a hand pressed to the back of his head. He stands with a grimace, catches Wyatt's eye, then quickly assesses Lucy with a dubious look.

"We...we good?"

Wyatt nods, his relief cresting into something that could easily turn to hysteria if he's not careful. "Yeah, Rufus. It's all clear, but we gotta keep moving."

As if to punctuate his point, a chunk of plaster comes clattering down from above and smashes to the ground just a few feet from where Rufus is standing. They meet in the middle, Lucy floundering along the way as Wyatt guides her toward the exit, and then Rufus is with them, putting an arm around Lucy from the other side as the three of them pick their way over what feels like the shambles of their lives. Mason Industries is the place that brought them together, after all, the reason behind all the madness and the catalyst that first formed their unlikely little team of three. There have been countless hours spent here since that first mission to 1937, a seemingly infinite collection of memories that range from silly and upbeat to bitter and disastrous, and here it is, nothing left but a decimated tombstone. A memorial to honor the war that's been waged on behalf of the millions of unknowing citizens across the country.

The impact of the moment nags at Rufus, but there's a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips as he turns to Wyatt and speaks around the dryness in his throat. "Dude...we really did it, didn't we?"

Wyatt surveys the smoke-filled destruction as they pass the last of crop of slowly diminishing embers that stands in their way. His mouth hitches up to one side as he meets Rufus' hopeful look with a hoarse chuckle. They've made quite the pair over the last month or so since their objective had shifted toward something more _final_ , and while he's certainly an anomaly when it comes to Wyatt's first choice for a brother-in-arms, Rufus has without a doubt been his number one ally in all of this.

"You know what, man? Yeah...I think we really did."

Their moment of triumph is hastily cut short as Lucy stiffens and plants her feet, stubborn and unmoving. Her gaze snaps between them with raucous disbelief before she swivels around to absorb the shattered fragments of everything they're leaving behind.

"You guys... _planned_ this?" She flinches as her eyes land on the blackened carcass of the Lifeboat. " _All_ of this?"

Rufus opens his mouth to answer her, but Wyatt beats him to it. He knows how delicate this is going to be, and although he's not quite ready to overturn the very fragile line she's walking, he's also sure that she won't be put off for long once the floodgates have opened. It's the moment he's been dreading all along, even if he's convinced himself that everything he's done has been for her. For _them_ , if there still could be a _them_ left at the end of this.

It's been his excruciating secret to bear, so if she's going to hear about this from anyone, it has to be him.

"Uh, not exactly," he hedges in a gentle tone, "but we did prepare for the worst."

Her brow crumples, and she's looking at Wyatt like she wants to run as far from him as humanly possible. "What exactly does that mean, Wyatt? And why didn't you - "

The rest of her question is lost as a flock of emergency personnel come streaming in, and then all three of them are swept out into the inky night air, propelled beyond the doors of Mason Industries at the hands of several determined firefighters who point them toward the provisional triage tent that's been set up in the northwest corner of the parking lot.

And just as Wyatt is about to turn back to Lucy and address the troubled challenge that lingers in her wide eyes, he hears the insistent shout of a medic from deep inside of the building.

"We have a pulse on this one, get a stretcher over here _stat_!"


	5. Chapter 5

_a/n: hey friends, **important note** \- this site was acting super glitchy when I posted chapter 4, so make sure that you did see it/read it before you move on to chapter 5. I'm feeling a teensy bit paranoid that the last one didn't go up properly  & I just want to be certain that you guys get the whole thing in the right order. Thanks ;) _

* * *

"We have a pulse on this one, get a stretcher over here _stat_!"

Lucy tries to turn around even though the reality of what those words could mean is creating a vicious hurricane in her stomach. There's no point, though. The rushing convoy of paramedics and firefighters are relentless in their effort to clear the area, so she's being thrust forward no matter how badly she wishes to crane her neck back and catch a glimpse of what's happening inside.

One poisonous phrase continues to beat incessantly against her brain with each step she takes - _we have a pulse_ , _we have a pulse_ , _we have a pulse_.

It could easily be Emma. Or the creepy jerk with the tattoos, or the taller one with a face that looks like its made of pure leather. And maybe there are others in there, a whole legion of various Rittenhouse enforcers who Wyatt had already picked off before Lucy was a part of the equation.

Or maybe it's her mother who is currently being resuscitated on the other side of that wall, and Lucy cannot even begin to fathom how that is supposed to make her feel. She has no idea if it would be the best case scenario or her absolute worst nightmare.

And that's the thought that does it. She shudders uncontrollably, chokes on the acrid taste of smoke, then coughs and gags until she makes herself sick all over pavement.

Wyatt hunkers down next to her, rubbing her back and stroking her hair away from her face, all while murmuring a medley of consoling words she can't quite comprehend. She's sure that she would never be able to position herself so close to anyone who was publicly heaving up the contents of their stomach, but he doesn't budge. He waits until there's nothing left and then takes her hand to lead her away.

Rufus is standing several yards upwind with a weak smile. This is the moment where someone should be making a joke, or where at the very least Lucy would normally make a flustered apology at the shame of they've all been forced to witness, but the world has gone upside-down in the space of a single hour and no one says a word as Wyatt ushers her ahead with grim resignation. They just keep moving toward the beckoning glare of red and blue lights like a group of disillusioned refugees.

The heaviness breaks at the sound of an incoherent screech and then there's a blur of a person flying across the parking lot, long dark hair whipping behind her along with a discarded coffee carrier that sloshes and splatters in her wake.

" _Rufus_!"

Jiya disappears in his arms, vehemently cursing at the audacity of terribly-timed coffee runs and the asshole fireman who wouldn't let her get anywhere near the building, but Rufus hears none of it. He just hugs her tightly until she claims she can't breathe, then kisses her for even longer.

Lucy looks away, then pulls her hand out of Wyatt's, because she's probably the only one who didn't see this whole thing coming, right? Jiya isn't asking for the details of what took place inside of Mason, hasn't even shown a sign of surprise at the fact that there's a suffocating flush of orange heat trailing behind them. Shouldn't the question of why there are several cavernous holes in her place of employment rank higher than a rant against a disagreeable firefighter? Or is Lucy really the only one who's been kept in the dark this time?

 _If you care about someone, if you trust someone...if you might even love someone...you tell them about something like this._

Her thoughts are getting louder and louder, crescendoing to the point where she might be physically ill all over again.

"Lucy," Wyatt murmurs in a gravely voice, fingertips whispering along the back of her hand as he bends to find her eyes.

She shakes her head and looks away. A headache thumps against her skull and tears hover at the brink of her eyelashes. She's put so much effort into fearing the future - the one that Rittenhouse has ominously outlined for her - that maybe she's missed the obvious disconnect between herself and the people she loves most. She's spent months living with the terrifying prophecy that she would someday become the type of person who could flip sides and betray her team, but all of that dread and anxiety has apparently been for nothing. They're the ones who have abandoned her somewhere along the way.

An impatient EMT stalks forward, corralling them like cattle toward the white triage tent that's wedged in the midst of a garish assembly of emergency vehicles. The woman stops somewhat abruptly, however, when her gaze sweeps over Wyatt. There's a whirlwind of noise and movement then - radios blaring and a shroud of uniforms circling them - and before Lucy can process any of it, Wyatt is being hauled away from her side.

"Wait," she breathes uncertainly, stumbling sideways before Rufus catches her by the arm, "wait - Wyatt!"

Rufus holds her back, his words measured in a gentle tempo that's supposed to placate her, but it's a useless endeavor. "They're taking him straight to the hospital, Lucy. It'll be okay, it's just his arm."

She ducks her head like she understands, but then breaks away from him as soon as he relaxes his grip, because she actually doesn't understand at all. She can't. Nothing is making any sense to her, but if there's one thing - _one person_ \- she can depend on in the middle of this free-for-all, it's Wyatt.

Even if she's mad at him. Even if she's terrified of who he is or what he's done. Even if they've let the chaos that surrounds them somehow get in between them.

Because even then, she still can't be without him.

Rufus and Jiya are both calling her name, begging her to wait, but Lucy ignores them. She isn't stopping for anything.

She blows past several medics without pause, and it's not until she reaches the ambulance and watches as they're loading him onto a gurney that she can fully grasp the truth, can see him - really _see_ him - for the first time since he'd scraped her away from her mother's prone body. He's absurdly pale in the harsh glow of the emergency lights. One side of his green canvas jacket is stained with a spill of blood, and the entire sleeve is limp and slick, nearly black in color. Grisly shadows are already starting to gather beneath his eyes as they wheel him backwards.

Then they're whisking him up and away and all she can think is _how_? How did she not notice that he'd been hurt so severely? How could she -

"Excuse me miss, but you need to step back so we can close the doors."

"No," she gasps, pushing forward. "I'm going with him."

"I'm sorry, but we - "

"Lucy?" Wyatt props himself up on his good arm, a crooked grin twitching around his mouth as he looks down at her and she nearly faints at the sight of that familiar expression. The paramedic tries to pry Lucy away, but Wyatt reads the situation and immediately comes to her rescue. "I beg your pardon, ma'am, but she needs treatment too. Look at those burns and tell me she's not headed for the hospital anyway."

The woman frowns, then gives a cursory glance over Lucy's body before tilting her head with hesitant agreement. "You can't interfere, though. Stay out of the way while we work on him."

Lucy nods idly and grapples with the door handle until she's pulling herself up into the back of the vehicle with a pained wince. She scoots across the bench until she's sitting near his waist, then tucks herself there in the narrow seat, making a conscious effort to take up as little space as possible. Her mouth opens, ready to apologize for wherever the hell her head's been at while he's had a bullet in his arm this whole time, but another gurney wheels by right before the doors can slam shut, and her gaze flickers upward just in time to see her mother - a mask over her chalky face and a team of EMTs shouting orders all around her - and Lucy is stripped of all feeling.

She doesn't realize that she's no longer breathing or that she's hacking up a clamor of dust and cinders until someone beside her is fastening an oxygen mask across her mouth. She's doubled over her knees when she returns to herself, gradually registering the pinch of something on the bridge of her nose as her eyes meet Wyatt's crystal blue gaze. He's wearing a matching oxygen mask that obscures too much of his face for her liking, but even then she can see the sadness that pulls at his mouth as he silently observes her.

Lucy looks away with a shiver. She thinks she can't deal with this, can't deal with _him_ , but then the activity that buzzes around her is no reprieve from her restless thoughts. The medics are spouting off a bewildering combination of numbers and letters, an encrypted language that somehow represents Wyatt's condition, and she feels helpless with the realization that she can't decode a scrap of what they're saying. Then someone is snipping at his jacket, deftly cutting the fabric away from the wound with alarming speed and precision, and Lucy is forced to turn her head at the demand of her cresting nausea. No matter how often she's confronted with it, she's still not good with blood.

So there she is, back to watching Wyatt's face. Back to those sad eyes.

 _"There's that look. Not too different than the one on your wife's face when she realized that she'd made the wrong enemies and couldn't outrun us anymore."_

Of course her mind replays that conversation, because that's where his sadness stems from, right? That's when the steely determination in his countenance had given way to sorrow. All because Lucy's own mother had more or less confessed to having a hand in Jessica Logan's death.

As if he hasn't already suffered enough. As if life has not already been unbelievably cruel to him. No, now he also has to live with the fact that he's been dating the daughter of his wife's murderers.

Her family killed his wife and he knows it. The idea that he actually _wanted_ Lucy to ride in here with him - even with the full knowledge that her parents are responsible for the brutal murder of the one person who had meant anything to him - fills her with rage on his behalf. He deserves so much more than this.

It's almost enough to send Lucy right out of the back doors and into oncoming traffic.

She sits up, reaches for the mask before anyone can notice what she's doing, but the paramedics pay her no mind anyhow. Wyatt is the one who's bleeding all over the table, after all, not Lucy. He's the only person in the small cab who even seems to remember that she's there, and she's desperate to say this to him now, to rid herself of the toxic guilt on her tongue.

"Why did you do it?"

His eyebrows scrunch together and he wearily shakes his head.

Lucy presses on, undeterred. "You should have let my mom talk, Wyatt. You should have found out what Rittenhouse did to - to her."

It's the first time she's ever felt incapable of speaking Jessica's name out loud, and she doesn't want to think too hard about why that's suddenly changed.

Panic jumps across Wyatt's face as the true meaning of her initial question dawns on him, and then he's scrabbling with his mask too, using his good hand to shift it just far enough to the side to croak in response - "No, _no way_ , Lucy."

"But...but it's probably true, Wyatt." Her voice is too high, thinning out with every word, but she has to keep going. "It makes sense, doesn't it? After what happened in '83 and - "

"Not worth it," he says thickly, "not if it takes you away from me."

The technician near his head scowls at them and readjusts Wyatt's mask until it's firmly in place again.

Lucy's head falls backward against the wall of the ambulance, but her eyes never leave his as she whispers one final appeal. "You might never get another chance now...you might never know what she would have told you..."

There are tears brightening his eyes as he arranges his arm as close to her as he can get it, and then his hand turns up and his fingers wiggle in her direction, inviting her to meet him halfway.

She doesn't hesitate.

Their fingers weave together just as naturally as they always do, and Wyatt squeezes her palm solidly against his own, exhibiting a surprising amount of strength for a man who has a gaping hole in his other arm.

Lucy doesn't speak another word until they're squealing to a stop at the front entrance of the hospital and his fingers are slipping out of her grasp.

"Wyatt, I - I'm sorry..."

Then they're separated again, broken apart in a merciless second as Wyatt is carried away from her, and this time no one is letting her go with him.


	6. Chapter 6

_a/n: hello all :) we still seem to be suffering through some glitchy website behavior, so if you're supposed to get notified of new chapters and that's not happening then 1) sorry about that! and 2) send a message to FF support to let them know that you're annoyed with the issue! The more complaints they get, the faster it should be fixed._

 _That said, hope you enjoy this one. It's time these two cleared the air a bit, am I right?_

* * *

Sleep takes hold of her in strange, disorienting intervals. She closes her eyes for a second and wakes up more than an hour later. Nurses come in, check her bandages, apply more salve, refresh the bowl of ice chips. They ask her questions while they take note of her vitals, but she's not sure the answers are coming out lucidly. The night passes as she sleeps between coughing fits, and then she wakes with a start to a gray dawn.

And there he is, suspended at the threshold of her room, looking like he's been to hell and back more than a few times in the last handful of hours. She figures he probably has, and that she just might be the one who's sent him there.

"Hey," he says gruffly before trying to clear his throat with a terrible scraping noise.

Lucy feels a jolt of alertness kindling through her veins. The fog in her head loosens its grip as she struggles to sit up and look at him properly. Wyatt strides across the room in an instant, tucking a pillow behind her back to aid her in the effort.

"Should you - " she coughs once, but forces herself to talk through it, "Should you be in here? I mean are - are you okay? Your arm - "

He grins mischievously and shrugs his good shoulder. "I'll live. I have a policy about hospitals - don't stay in them a second longer than you have to."

Her eyes flit over him, taking in the sling on his arm along with the bloodied jeans and stained undershirt that cling to his solid form, before returning to his face for a glimpse of the thick stubble on his jaw and the red lines unfolding in his eyes.

"See something you like, ma'am?"

She meets his gaze head on, powerless to the familiar flutter of attraction that still passes through her when he talks like that. "I thought I told you not to call me ma'am."

Wyatt smiles widely - the most genuine smile she's seen him wear in far too long - and it breaks her heart to think how close she came to never seeing that smile again. "You can't fool me, Luce. It's a turn-on and you know it."

Her lips stretch upward of their own accord. "I admit nothing."

He chuckles in response, but then the chuckle turns into an unrelenting cough, and he stumbles his way to the chair in the corner and sits until the last painful wheeze has deserted him. Lucy looks on in horror, oblivious to the tears tumbling down her cheeks. She wants to do something - _anything_ \- to alleviate the lines of agony that are so deeply stamped into his expression.

"Here," she whispers when he finally lifts his head again, shoving her tray in his direction and nodding at the heap of melting ice chips. "You need this more than I do right now."

He looks like he's going to argue, but she pins him with a knowing frown and he scoots his chair toward her with a weak smirk of concession. There's a slight tremor running through his hand as he transfers a spoonful of ice from the bowl to his mouth, and she can't withhold her mounting concern for another moment.

"Did they seriously discharge you like this, Wyatt? Or did you just throw on what's left of your clothes and break out of your room as soon as the nurses were looking the other way?"

He takes his time in answering, tilting his head sideways while gnawing at the ice methodically. "I can assure you that I went through all the proper channels."

" _Wyatt_ \- "

"I'm okay, Lucy," he leans forward, his eyes steady as he swallows the last of the ice. "The bullet actually went clean through, so all they had to do was deal with the blood loss, patch me up, and prescribe a healthy dose of the good stuff to stave off the pain. I'm on a truckload of antibiotics and my lovely friends at the Red Cross took care of the rest."

"You...you had a blood transfusion?"

He nods at the wad of gauze taped to the inside of his uninjured arm. "Good as new."

She sags backwards into the thin mattress and stares up at the gleaming white ceiling tiles. "I must have slept longer than I thought."

"That's because they have you on the good stuff too, babydoll," he says with a wink.

She shakes her head at his antics, but can't quite match the usual rhythm that characterizes their banter, so she lets his statement fade into the air around them without further comment. There's a slow lull that hums through the room, hushed yet not uncomfortable, but then Lucy begins to flip through a mental slideshow of each gruesome image that's brought them to this point, and Wyatt seems to hear her thoughts even though she hasn't breathed a word of what's running through her head.

"I meant what I said in the ambulance, Lucy. If I could relive the whole thing, I would do it all the same. You aren't just some substitute or a placeholder until Jess miraculously reappears. I'm _so_ happy with you, so in love with you and I - " he clears his throat again as his eyebrows pinch together, " - I could never sacrifice what we have. You...you know that, right?"

"You once told me that anything..." she closes her eyes, forcing back tears, "...anything would be worth having her back."

"And I was dead wrong. I may have thought it was true at the time, but I can see now how stupid - how _selfish_ \- I was that night." He pauses, but it does nothing to hide the tension in his voice when he continues. "Even back then I hated myself for saying that to you."

She smiles bitterly. "I think I'm the one who gets top marks on the stupidity chart. My mom was probably sitting at the top of the stairs that night, having a ball at the two of us talking like we had any idea what we were doing...acting as if we had the ability to impact any of it - Flynn, Amy, your wife. I bet she was having a hell of a laugh at our expense..."

Wyatt grimaces as his index finger trails up and down the pathway of the raised veins on her forearm. "I'd rather not think about that possibility. She, uh...she's still hanging on, by the way. Your mom, that is. She's in the ICU."

He heart is a jackhammer inside of her chest, but she refuses to address that piece of information with even the smallest semblance of directness. "And Emma? The others?"

"Pronounced dead on the scene. We're done with them."

"Really?" Lucy scoffs and pulls her arm away from him. "We'll never actually be done with any of this, Wyatt. Surely you can see that by now."

"I'm not saying Rittenhouse goes away just because we cut the head off the beast - _again_ \- but I do know it will be different this time. It's not our burden to bear anymore."

The weight of her exhaustion returns with a startling force, and she can't keep the sharp disapproval out of her voice as she responds. "Why, because you and Rufus made the executive decision to just go ahead and blast the Lifeboat to pieces? You think that magically solves everything?"

"Time travel was destroying us, Lucy. So I destroyed it." He quirks an eyebrow and leans back in his chair. "Flynn's idea, actually."

She shivers at the nonchalance in his words, shrinks backward from what she thinks he's just admitted. "You-you don't mean...have you been talking to Flynn? _Recently_? Or..."

"Recently," he confirms quietly. "I went to see him."

"When?" she whispers, her eyes fixated on the sheet that's pulled over her bandaged knees because she can't pretend that she's going to take this well.

"Three weeks ago."

Her vision narrows as she chokes on that confession. "Because...because we argued? About the journal? So what, you thought it was best to just bypass my choice to trash the damn thing and went straight to the one person who could invalidate my decision?"

"No, Lucy, that's not - " he stops abruptly at the interruption of her escalating cough and passes the spoon back to her, pointing at the bowl of ice with an unyielding stare. "Your turn."

She grudgingly complies, but only because that cough is rattling her brain to the point of distraction and she needs to know what the hell Wyatt's been up to before he can worm his way out of this discussion.

To his credit, he doesn't falter once she puts the spoon down again. "I respected your choice, Luce. I didn't ask him how the journal ended."

"Why, then?" she asks in a pathetically raspy voice. "If not for that, then why?"

Wyatt hunches forward, resting his good elbow on the edge of her mattress with a long sigh. "He told me once - a long time ago, on the Watergate jump - that the journal didn't always make sense...didn't always sound like _you_. But he didn't give a reason for what caused the change, or any kind of time frame for when it started to go off-course. And at the time I thought a good ninety-nine percent of what that nutjob said was total bullshit, and I basically told him as much back then, but..."

"But lately you've been second guessing that assumption."

His eyes seize hers, and she almost flinches backward at the anguish in his gaze. "Lately I've been second guessing _everything_. I - "

"You think I'm losing it." she interjects flatly. "Going crazy."

"No," he breathes out immediately, "I think we're _all_ losing it. I can't sleep, Lucy. I have not gotten more than two or three hours of sleep at a time in God knows how long. My brain never shuts off. I can't close my eyes for more than a minute without thinking Emma is somehow there with a gun to your head. And shit, are you telling me you don't remember the last time we fought about something other than the frickin' journal? Because I sure do. You were ready to shove me headfirst into the Grand Canyon for suggesting that we intentionally wipe out an entire branch of your family tree."

"Which _was_ insane," she retorts caustically. "Aside from the incalculable historical ramifications, there's the small fact that I would _also_ be consequently erased from history. Was that another brilliant idea you picked up from your social call to Garcia Flynn's jail cell?"

He actually smiles at her despite the straining pressure in his jaw. "No, that was before I talked to him...and I maintain the argument that technically you wouldn't have been erased, per se. You would just come back to a version of our present time where only Rufus and I knew you. That's not the same as getting permanently deleted. Plus there was the added bonus of Rittenhouse never knowing you existed in the first place, remember? You liked that part."

She makes a grumbling noise in return, rolling her eyes as she reaches for another spoonful of ice to soothe the harrowing itch in her throat.

"And it's not just us, okay?" Wyatt continues with a somber look. "Rufus never goes home anymore, never goes much of anywhere at all. Mason Industries had practically become his own personal bunker. Jiya's been threatening to break up with him for months now just to try and snap him out of it, and I think she really would have done it if she wasn't in so deep herself. And c'mon, Agent Christopher put her entire family on a plane and sent them to the other side of the damn planet - _indefinitely_. And she's been insufferable to work with ever since, but who can blame her? Something had to give."

It's all true, every last word of it, and she's ashamed to recognize her own part - or lack thereof - in the equation he's just spelled out for her. She'd shut down somewhere along the way, deciding that it was all too much to endure, especially with the added guilt of knowing that she was born into the very organization that was causing so much of the turmoil around her. She had pressed the mute button on her own life and taken a giant step back from everyone she loved.

It was supposed to be temporary. It was supposed to make things easier.

But looking at Wyatt now - with tears stinging in his eyes and a sling holding him together - it's obvious that she certainly hasn't made anything easier for him.

He runs his knuckles over the back of her hand, a question lurking in his radiant blue gaze. She caves without a fight, turning her hand until it's safely nestled inside of his.

"I went to Flynn to save us, Lucy. And let me tell you, that was one hell of a humbling experience," he says with a self-deprecating chuckle. "But in the end, he gave me what I needed."

"Which was...what, exactly?" she murmurs in return.

The corner of his mouth rises almost unwillingly. "Hope, believe it or not. He said it wasn't too late, and that's all I needed to know. For the first time in a long time, I came home that night with the belief that the future wasn't already a lost cause...that there was still something I could do to change the outcome."

"Why...why didn't you tell me what you were planning to do? Why did you talk to Rufus instead of me?"

It's the doubt that weighs most heavily on her conscience, and even though she already has a good idea of what his answer will be, she still has to ask.

Wyatt brings her hand to his face and rests his bristly cheek against the back of it. "I never purposely set out to hide anything from you, I promise...it just _happened_. You were literally sitting ten feet away from us the first time we tossed around the idea of dismantling the time machines, but you were in your own world, totally preoccupied. And trust me, neither of us were sold on that plan right away, but by the time everything was really taking shape, I - I was too afraid of how you would react if I brought you into the loop so late in the game. There was no turning back for me at that point."

She swallows hard and clutches his hand like it's her only means of survival. "So you guys lied to Agent Christopher after the last jump? Rufus deliberately dropped us in the middle of Rittenhouse headquarters all on his own, didn't he? We intentionally chased them there. And it wasn't a spur of the moment decision to wreck the Mothership as our last resort...that was the plan all along."

He nods solemnly. "It was the only way."

"And now there's no Mothership and no Lifeboat. Rittenhouse can't manipulate history, so they're someone else's problem now?"

There's an agitated note in her voice, and as much as she tries to squash it down, Wyatt automatically catches it. He smiles softly at her, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Yes and no. It's fair to assume that the mission to take down Rittenhouse is out of our hands now...presumably landing on the shoulders of the FBI, if I had to guess. But there's a catch, Luce. The Mothership isn't _really_ gone. Not yet, anyway, but Rittenhouse doesn't know that."

She sits up straighter, her heart leaping up into her throat even as she tries to keep herself from holding out any hope. "It-it's not? So...do we have it?"

"Yes. Christopher went with a recovery task force hours ago. I just spoke to her before you woke up. It's ours."

"And it's...operational?"

His smile grows as he leans closer and brushes a tear from her face. "Why don't we just jump to the question you really want to ask, okay?"

She squeezes her eyes shut and utters the name with nothing more than a whimper. "Amy?"

"She's coming home, Lucy. The Mothership is going out one last time just for her."

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 _reviews are love, friends._


	7. Chapter 7

_a/n : so here's the annoying thing about starting a story just because the muse randomly makes you do it - there's this expectation that you actually have to bring it all to a reasonable close even if you only started the fic for the sake of writing about a somewhat canon-compliant doomsday massacre. Now there are real responsibilities involved, dang it. So with that being said, fair warning to everyone that this is winding down & I'm pushing through to the end because that's the right thing to do ... even if this is the fic that no one ever asked me to write ;)_

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There are too many variables. All it will take is for one part of this plan to hit a snag and then her whole world will surely come undone.

Wyatt claims that he and Rufus acted very deliberately when they sabotaged the Mothership. The real damage was done when Rufus extracted several fundamental parts of the time machine - an assortment of capacitors and cables that effectively wiped out the circuitry, not that Lucy really understands much beyond that - but with each of those stolen items still in his possession, he says he can very easily restore the Mothership to working order in just an hour or so. Wyatt's gunshots had been nothing more than well-placed theatrics, just a diversion to buy time and really sell the show to their adversaries.

But Lucy is crippled with doubt. What if it takes longer than an hour? What if Rittenhouse catches on to their plan before they can make the jump? What if Rufus and Wyatt overdid it and mistakenly damaged something beyond repair, confining them to the present timeline once and for all?

And that's just the beginning. Agent Christopher has officially benched both Lucy and Wyatt from the trip to the '70s, insisting that their injuries are far too conspicuous for a mission that requires discretion. Neither of them take that order well, but Wyatt is really seething when she goes on to say that they aren't healthy enough to be dependable anyway. He's making her case for her as he forces his words out between coughing fits, and she emphatically fires back each time he makes another hoarse argument against her decision - it's too much of a risk. They aren't going, end of discussion.

The tension heightens, expands through the room until the air feels like a rubber band that's about to snap, and Lucy is dangerously tempted to hit the off-switch in her brain and drift away from the conflict. She just wants to quiet the noise for a little while, if only so she can catch her breath for a single second.

Wyatt appears in her field of vision just in time, all traces of his anger and frustration magically diminished as he kneels before her. "Lucy? You still with us?"

She nods slowly, making great effort to clear her head and focus on the lifeline that lives inside of his clear blue eyes. He dips forward with a hand pressing against her cheek and kisses her fully on the lips with no regard for the fact that they're still in the presence of Agent Christopher, Rufus, Connor Mason, and a dozen Homeland Security agents. When he backs away, there's a dizzying heat in his gaze and a gentle smirk pulling at the side of his mouth, but then he's back to business in an instant.

The dispute circles around them again, but Wyatt works to keep his voice level this time and respectfully accepts the final verdict when its clear that Christopher isn't budging. They've been grounded.

It's not enough that Rittenhouse is still out there somewhere, or that the Mothership could very well be on the fritz despite Rufus' assurances, but now Lucy isn't even going to be there to ensure that things go according to plan. Her sister's fate rests solely on a stand-in team comprised of Rufus, Jiya, and a stranger from Homeland Security who looks bored out of his mind for the entirety of their briefing.

Lucy can't hide her tears as the meeting comes to a close. Everyone else is filing out of the makeshift conference room that's been set up several miles outside of the city, and she wishes she could do a better job of keeping a lid on her emotions through the mundane shuffle of feet and conversation, but she can't pull herself together or move from her seat. Unlike Wyatt, she has no problem admitting that her entire body hurts like hell right about now. She would _definitely_ be a liability if anything went wrong on the jump, but the thought of staying behind is absolute torture. Her eyes keep flitting back to Rufus - who has come out of the wreckage of Mason Industries with nothing more than a mild bump on the head and a few shallow scratches and bruises - and she wishes with all of her might to just _be_ him, as weird as that may sound. She needs this to work, needs it so badly that she's probably going to erupt with the stress of everything that's stacked against them.

And that's when it hits her square in the face. There's still one gigantic risk involved here, another hideous possibility that hasn't yet been discussed. She turns to Wyatt with a gasp, and Agent Christopher is there in a flash, her brow wrinkled with concern as Lucy tries to find her voice.

"What if we don't know about any of this after the jump? What if things change so much that I won't even know who Amy is when they come back?"

Wyatt's apprehensive glance boomerangs between Lucy and Agent Christopher for several gut-wrenching seconds before he attempts to answer her, but even then she can tell that he's at a loss for what to say. "I don't think that will happen, Lu - "

"Yes," she persists, feeling frantic and out of breath as the panic sets in. She looks to Denise, desperate for her to understand. " _Yes_ it will, it's happened before! Amy had to have been part of my file when we left for the Hindenburg - she even came to the goddamn door and met the agent you sent for me that night - and you had no idea who she was when we returned. I'm the only one who remembers her now...if I don't go and history changes again, I - I could forget her forever."

There's a crackle of loaded silence, but then Rufus tentatively raises his hand from where he's standing just inside of the doorway and nods towards his two teammates. "You guys do realize that the Mothership is a lot roomier than the Lifeboat, right? Lucy can still come, she just needs to stay in the time machine and wait for us there until we're done."

"And if she's going, I am too," Wyatt inserts with his eyebrows raised. "Like hell am I the only one out of the three of us who's getting my memory erased if this gets messy."

Lucy crushes his hand inside of hers with a white-knuckled grip, equally terrified at the notion of Wyatt not knowing her when this is all over.

Another round of debate ensues until Agent Christopher eventually relents with strict orders - Lucy and Wyatt are not permitted to leave the Mothership under any circumstances. She says it as if they've exasperated her to the point of finally being worn down, but there's a glimmer of charitable sympathy in her gaze as she glances back at the pair of them once more before leaving the room.

Lucy sags into her chair with a fragile sense of relief, knowing that this is the best option in a long list of shitty options. It's still not going to be easy easy to take a backseat this time around, but then she tries to imagine how she would handle a face-to-face confrontation with a much younger version of her mother, and the thought of it sends her reeling. With everything she's learned about her vile family history in the last two years, she's positive that such an encounter would be disastrous at this point. Maybe that's why Agent Christopher is towing such a firm line on the matter, but Lucy is too exhausted to examine that thought any further. It's a small comfort to know that time won't be changing its course all around her without her permission; even if this jump doesn't bring Amy back, Lucy will still know that she once had a sister. She'll know that they tried to bring her back and she'll still have the memory of Amy - not just her sister, but her best friend - to cherish even if it's all she has left.

And maybe that will have to be enough.

Rufus finishes patching the circuit board just a few minutes short of his promised hour, and then Lucy is taking her seat across from Wyatt, allowing him to help her with a new set of buckles as they prepare for what may very well be their last expedition into the past. She's been so caught up in whether or not they can really save Amy that she hasn't even taken a moment to process that the rest of this is coming to an end; this jump is their swan song, the end of a very long road that's brought more grief, more joy, and more surprises than she can even begin to count.

As per usual, he's perfectly attuned to what's going on in her head. He takes his time - excessively careful to avoid the painful assortment of bandages and stitches that adorns her skin - and his hand lingers once he's done, favoring her with a steadfast smile as he catches her eyes. "It's been an honor serving at your side, ma'am."

She tries to smile back, but when that fails, she touches the back of his hand instead. "You - you know we're pretty much the same age, right?"

He chuckles in response and Lucy falls in love with those laugh lines around his mouth all over again. "So you've told me... _ma'am_."

She squeezes his hand for a moment longer as a tsunami of emotion rushes through her. She can't believe this is true, can she? That after all this time, he's still that same guy who she'd written off as a total douche in the first sixty seconds of knowing him? He's not, he's never been _that_ guy anyway, but even still, that version of him feels like a shadow in comparison to the man who sits in front of her today. The memory is so thin, barely a sketch of what he's come to mean to her in the days that have followed. She knows she's not the same anymore either, because standing guard at the epicenter of history has changed all of them in a myriad of untold ways, hasn't it? There are thousands of fractures - both small and large - running through all three of them, and the world will never quite be the same now.

But for every unimaginable thing they've seen and done, Wyatt still represents so much of what initially drew her to him. He's her safety net, their protector, the one who blends passion and drive with more heart than she ever knew could exist inside of one person. And now, after he's proven himself a million times over, fought for her and stood by her and loved her so well, they're actually doing this - they're actually going back for Amy. They're fixing it, just like he's always promised they would.

There are tears in her eyes as she inches forward and whispers the only words she can manage to get out without descending into an actual sob - "Thank you, Wyatt."

He leaves an unhurried kiss on her forehead before leaning back to make a very impressive show of clicking his own seat belt into place even with one arm in a sling.

"Show-off," she mutters with a tiny grin.

He chuckles again and opens his mouth, probably ready to say something ridiculously arrogant in response, but then Rufus announces that they're on their way and Lucy watches with a mild dash of amusement as Wyatt sits up straighter and gapes around the interior, clearly thunderstruck at the lack of turbulence.

" _Sonofabitch_ ," he breathes out, eyes wide, "so this is what it feels like to fly first class, huh? Screw history, our first priority on every jump should have been stealing this thing and leaving them with the damn Lifeboat for the ride home."

Lucy doesn't even have a chance to roll her eyes at his smartass comment, because just like that, they're already touching down in 1979.

This is it, this is the moment she's been dreaming of for so long, and now she's here. She's in 1979, the year that her mother first fell for Henry Wallace.

She's here, but there's nothing for her to do but wait.


	8. Chapter 8

_a/n : at the risk of being super repetitive, email notifications are still down so make sure you caught the last chapter before you read this one :) This was supposed to be the last chapter but of course these two are never quite doing things on my schedule..? So there's one more to come after this!_

 _andddd shout-out to the super cool Gracie who left a sweet guest review on the last chapter - i can't communicate with you any other way, so here's my chance to specifically tell you THANK YOU & I am so glad that I can help you see Matt Lanter in your head because we all need as much of Matt Lanter as we can get, right? All of your reviews are lovely but this last one really made me smile!_

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He's the last one to call himself an authority on successful relationships. And now - if Carol Preston's revelation can be trusted, that is - he's even worse at this than he had ever imagined.

It had been startling for a somewhat shy and insecure kid from the wrong side of town to realize that even the most intimidating of girls responded enthusiastically to his slow drawl and dimpled smile, and he's only slightly ashamed to admit that he'd learned how to work that angle from a fairly early age. The dumb luck of genetics had propelled him to the top of his high school's social ladder despite the fact that those same genetics stemmed from his deadbeat dad and a weak-willed mother, neither of which had many of friends of their own. And sure, there were always a few classmates or parents who shot dirty looks in his direction when they thought he wasn't paying attention, but all in all, he hadn't done too badly for himself.

But it had mostly been a defense mechanism, a pretense that he kept up so that no one would remember where he really came from. He knows how to get a woman's attention, but he's always felt like a bit of a bumbling idiot at the thought of _keeping_ a woman's attention, especially when it came down to the moment where he had to translate the depths of his feelings into actual sentences. He is the guy who dropped the engagement ring, after all; the type of guy who chokes on his words mid-confession, choosing to let his second chance at love walk away with nothing more than a moronically vague statement like _I don't know, I just know I'm not really ready to say goodbye yet_.

Thank God he eventually got the chance to fix _that_ ridiculous blunder.

But sitting here now, watching Lucy wring her hands together and gnaw on the inside of her cheek, he's under no illusion that he's the expert on relationships. And hell, it's not like his marriage to Jess had been any version of a fairy tale even without the possibility that Rittenhouse had somehow been involved all along. They'd had their problems, and now that he's finally taken off the rose-colored glasses and looked at their marriage for what it was, he knows they both owned some of the blame for the way things had unraveled before her death.

In hindsight, those problems look like child's play in comparison to the challenges he's faced with Lucy. Who has the energy to complain about cold lasagna or stupid ex boyfriends when most of your time is devoted to cruising through three centuries of history to save the country from countless perils? How can you let the petty stuff get in the way when there's a shadow organization lurking around every corner, plotting the demise of your entire world one year at a time?

And yet for all of that, there's no doubt as to what he wants next. He wants - _needs_ , actually - the certainty of a future with her. He's risked it all for the life that lies ahead of them, and even if his idea of happiness feels about as elusive as a house built on a foundation of quicksand, he won't back away just for the fear of failing again. She's worth the gamble. She's worth everything and then some.

To think that he'll have Lucy all to himself after this - no more Rittenhouse or Homeland Security calling the shots, no 3 a.m. phone calls pulling them out of bed, no damn journal hanging over their heads? It's almost too good to be true, and yeah, he can easily think of a few ways to fill all of the spare time they'll suddenly have at their disposal.

And is it really too soon to start cashing in on that free time now? They have to find _some_ way to kill a few hours here in 1979, right?

"Luce," he calls softly, breaking her from her restless reverie as gently as he can.

Her eyes dart upward but she doesn't stop fidgeting. She takes a wild glance around the interior of the time machine and inhales shallowly.

 _Shit._

To him, the Mothership might as well be the freakin' Ritz Carlton in comparison to the pint-sized Lifeboat that they're used to, but he should have known better than to assume that she would feel the same way. It's still a relatively small space, and to really up the ante, it's their own personal prison until the rest of the team comes back for them. They're cooped up indefinitely, and as if she's not already feeling anxious enough at the thought of what's happening out there beyond the walls of the time machine, the instruction to sit tight in this enclosed bubble has to be ratcheting up her unease by quite a few notches.

"I could use a little air," Wyatt announces with practiced nonchalance. "You coming with me?"

She frowns, and he doesn't miss the tremor that passes through her as she clears her throat. "We - we're not supposed to leave, Wyatt."

He can't withhold a smirk at that reply. Leave it to Lucy, always the dutiful rule follower. "We're just stretching our legs, okay? Lighten up, Preston."

She smiles in return, but it's flimsy and unsure. She takes his hand nonetheless, waits fretfully as he hops down into the weeds below before he turns back to help her down with the only good arm he has to offer. Early afternoon sunshine flickers through the little meadow that they've landed in, bringing a bit of color back into Lucy's face and illuminating her eyes with a golden sparkle. It's with a playful smile that Wyatt pulls her toward a nearby tree and settles her on the ground between his legs, his arm wrapping snugly around her waist as he props himself against the sturdy trunk. Lucy sinks backwards automatically, breathing deeply and finally letting her jittery hands come to a rest against his forearm.

"I wish we were out there with them."

Her voice is still raspy with the lingering dregs of smoke inhalation, adding even more fragility to a statement that's already overwrought with emotion. It's enough to split his heart into pieces all over again.

"I know, baby," he whispers into her hair. "But it's Rufus and Jiya. They're our friends, and they've never let us down before. Trust them. They want this pretty badly for you too, ya know."

"I know," she murmurs, tipping her head into the crook of his shoulder. "It's - it's probably a good thing too... _not_ seeing my mom, that is."

Wyatt winces his agreement. "Um, yeah...now that you mention it, I probably would have blown this whole thing sky high if I had gone anywhere near her."

For a second he thinks his words may border on callous given everything that's transpired in the last 24 hours, but he's relieved to feel Lucy nodding against him without hesitation. "I...I can't think about it too much. It gives me an instant migraine to imagine all of the possible ripple effects that our presence here could cause. If I could talk to her _now_ , this early on, about Rittenhouse...about any of it..."

He closes his eyes momentarily, wary at that line of thinking and needing to do something to pull her away from it at all costs. "If it gives you a migraine, then we're all sunk. You're supposed to be the smart one around here."

She wraps her fingers more firmly around his wrist with a shake of her head. "Says the guy who speaks four languages."

That tone - the one that unreservedly springs out of her when she's giving him a hard time - instantly puts him on cloud nine. He angles his mouth close to her ear with a wily grin. " _Du hast wunderschöne Augen_."

"Not fair," she whines, squirming against him, "you know what that does to me, Wyatt."

"Uh yeah, why do you think I do it then?" he asks with a teasing laugh.

She twists sideways and tries to glare at him, but it's a lost cause. He kisses her as soon as she's within striking distance, and she welcomes him without protest. Her fingertips splay against his neck and her mouth moves slowly against his like she's declaring a meaningful promise that's just for him. For once he's in no rush to take the kiss anywhere, relishing in the fact that they're outside of time right now, planted here with nowhere to go and the no one to answer to; the universe has shrunk down to just him, Lucy, and a patch of green grass that's surrounded by nothing but several miles of undeveloped California woodlands.

She pulls away with her eyes still closed as one slender hand slides down past his shoulder to rest over top of his racing heart. "You make that sound so romantic, but for all I know, you're probably only saying some vulgar combo of German profanity just because it amuses you to know that you can get away with it."

Wyatt's head tips backward with a wheezing chuckle, only barely keeping it under control before it can morph into a full-fledged cough. "I would never - "

Lucy opens her eyes with a reproachful look and makes a noise of disbelief.

"Okay, _maybe_ I can see why you might accuse me of such a dirty trick, but nothing could be further from the truth." He leans forward, kisses her on the mouth once more, then backs up just enough to peer straight into those coal-black eyes of hers. " _Du hast wunderschöne Augen_ \- you have beautiful eyes."

She smiles with a hint of bashfulness and toys with the collar of his shirt. "I need to learn that phrase, then. I should be the one saying that to you."

Wyatt shakes his head with a short, soft laugh. "I'll take the compliment, but seriously, Lucy...you have gorgeous eyes."

He doesn't wait for her to dispute the matter. He just kisses her again, pouring all of himself into the union of his mouth and hers, desperate to keep her tethered to him in this surreal beam of unspoiled sunlight.

Lucy turns the rest of the way, scooting herself up onto his thigh with both arms around his neck, kissing him back with a devotion that leaves him breathless. And just as things seem to be heating up in the best of ways, her lips leave his with an abrupt jolt.

"What - " she turns her head to the side with a cough, but recovers quickly and furrows her brow at him. "What's in your pocket? And for the love of God do not say you're just happy to see me."

He releases a scratchy laughing cough of his own at her words, but it doesn't last long. He gazes at her with small smile, studying her expression with great care before shifting her weight to his opposite leg and reaching into his pocket. "Sorry, Luce, I meant to give this to you earlier but it totally slipped my mind with everything else that's been going on."

Her cherished locket swings freely on its long chain once he's freed it from its confinement, and just as he expects, Lucy's eyes immediately cloud over with unshed tears once it's in plain view. She reaches for it with trembling fingers and Wyatt slips the chain over her head as she clutches the pendant tightly in both of her hands. He brushes her hair away from her face and kisses her forehead before speaking quietly. "A firefighter found it in the debris last night and wanted to get it to back to the right person, so he stopped by the hospital early this morning after his shift ended. You were still sleeping, but I told him I would hold onto it for you."

Silent tears run unchecked over the slope of her graceful cheekbones. She doesn't say anything, just repositions herself against him once more and burrows the side of her head into his good shoulder. The locket pops open under the direction of her fingernail and then her thumb caresses the faded photo of Amy as a faint sniffle escapes her.

Wyatt tries to tell her that it's all going to be okay, that this jump will finally be the one to bring her sister back, but the words stick in his throat. Optimism hasn't come easily for him in quite some time - doesn't really come easily for any of them at this point - and even if he would do anything to make this one thing happen for her, he can't bring himself to make any guarantees. He just holds her close, whispers that he loves her as many times as she needs to hear it, and lets her cry.

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 _feel free to use that little review box below ;)_


	9. Chapter 9

_a/n: ummm...where to begin? I've been out of town lately so finishing this chapter was already a challenge, but then there's the emotional roller coaster of losing our precious show just for it to rise again in 3 days? I CAN'T EVEN. WE ARE ALIVE, FRIENDS. I am still dumbfounded that this happened & I don't think I'll get over this feeling any time soon :) _

_That said, this is the final chapter of Explain the Infinite. I thought this author's note would be tragically sad to write in the wake of such bad news, but yayyyy Timeless is revived! So now I can just end this by saying thank you so much for the support on this one! You guys are the best!_

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"So...I guess there _really_ is a first time for everything?"

No one laughs at Rufus' quip. In fact, no one does much of anything at all for several awestruck seconds. Wyatt gapes around the empty warehouse, the blankness in his expression surely matching the appearance of the room that looks nothing like the one they had left behind - a room that had held the diligent activity of Mason's displaced techs and Christopher's bustling agents the last time he had laid eyes upon it.

Now they're back in the present a handful of hours later, their spirits somewhat bolstered after receiving a cautiously confident report from Rufus and Jiya, but there's no one there to greet them. Not even a mouse or a tumbleweed. Just the echo of a cavernous empty space, one time machine, and five pairs of incredulous eyes.

Well, more like four pairs of incredulous eyes. Agent Hoyt - the representative from Homeland Security assigned to accompany Rufus and Jiya in Wyatt's place - is more or less stoic in the eerie stillness that surrounds them.

"I'll put a call in to Christopher," he mutters dryly before stepping away with his phone already pressed to his ear.

Wyatt glances sharply at Lucy, awaiting the reprimand that's sure to come when she realizes Hoyt took his modern cell phone to the Seventies, but she's pale and expressionless, not paying any mind to the agent who is now pacing across the barren floor at the other end of the room. He's not the only one who notices her dazed trance. Jiya approaches Lucy slowly, wraps an arm around her, and he's relieved to see that Lucy leans into her with a thin smile.

"She's on her way," Hoyt calls out as he comes striding back toward them, his cell phone pocketed once more.

"Uh...that's it?" Rufus asks with his head cocked to the side. "What did she say, man? Anything about where the hell she is or if Lucy's sister is back?"

The agent cracks a meager smile and shrugs uselessly. "More like she wanted to know where the hell _we_ were..and why. There was also a lot of cursing, and that was the end of it."

Lucy staggers ever so slightly from where she stands with Jiya, and on the assumption that her knees won't be holding her up for much longer, Wyatt makes his way over to the pair of them and nods toward the wall, guiding Lucy by her elbow until she's sinking to the floor with him. Jiya follows suit, taking a seat next to Lucy and placing a consoling hand on her arm, and then Rufus falls in line too with an arm wrapping soundly around Jiya's shoulders.

They stay just like that - the four of them connected by linked arms and brushing knees while Hoyt continues to pace around like a caged tiger - until Denise Christopher bursts into the warehouse with a swarm of agents behind her. She looks beyond pissed as she approaches, but her anger noticeably subsides when her eyes come to rest on the gleaming white exterior of the Mothership. "Well I'll be damned."

Rufus is the first to speak, but there isn't much that comes out. "What - _what_? Why are you - "

She swivels to him with a hard line cast across her mouth. "Did we still want to destroy this thing wherever - or _whenever_ \- it is that the five of you just came from?"

"Hell yes," Wyatt answers in a gravelly voice, his fingers flexing tightly around Lucy's hand. "Like twenty minutes ago would have been good."

"Get on it then," Denise says briskly, gesturing toward Rufus with a harried look.

" _Wait_." Lucy pushes herself up from the ground with a wobble, but she stalks forward, impressively undaunted, before Wyatt can come to her aid. "My sister...? Is she - is she here?"

Denise frowns, then glances beyond Lucy to seek out Wyatt's gaze. He's not sure what she's looking for from him, but it's pretty clear that she doesn't find it, because she turns back to Lucy with bewilderment still scrawled deeply into her forehead. "Why would she be _here_ , Lucy? You haven't told her about this, have you? Your NDA specifically stated - "

"She's alive? You're saying Amy is alive?!"

"Well, yes, why wouldn't she - "

Lucy nearly tackles Agent Christopher with the momentum of a crushing hug, and Wyatt feels a strange laugh bubbling out of him at the sight of it. He stands too, his body creaking wearily in spite of the spike of adrenaline that's coursing through his veins, and then a moment later Lucy is coming at him like she's been launched from a slingshot. He latches onto her waist with his good arm as she wraps herself around him in a hold that's almost suffocating. He bites down on his tongue to keep from groaning aloud at the way the force of her embrace jars his injury, because nothing is going to rain on her parade if he can help it, especially not something as trivial as the pain that's shooting through his shoulder. The pain is temporary, but the impression of her arms gleefully fastening around him in this moment is something he's going to remember for as long as he lives.

"Can someone give us a lift?" he asks over her shoulder to a still-baffled Christopher. "Lucy has some catching up to do, and Rufus and Jiya are the experts on time machine demolition. You don't really need us hanging around here."

"No one is leaving until someone tells me why you're all so banged up, not to mention how the hell you have this thing back in your possession...especially since you were so adamant about wiping it out in the first place, Wyatt."

Lucy pries herself away from Wyatt, swiping at the new current of tears streaking over her smiling face. "We just took it out a few hours ago with your permission. The Lifeboat is out of commission but Rufus repaired the Mothership just so we could go back for Amy."

"Her sister disappeared after our first jump, ma'am," Wyatt says slowly, sensing the cloud of confusion that's still hanging over the agent's head. "You made a deal with Lucy ages ago - you would help her bring Amy back as long as she continued on with the assignment. Well the assignment should be over now since we just took out the last of the known Rittenhouse members less than 24 hours ago. I'm sure there's still more work to be done, but our - "

"No, that can't be right," Denise interrupts with her brows knit together. "To my knowledge, Amy has been here all along and we released the three of you from service several weeks ago. The assignment has _been_ over, Master Sergeant. Both time machines were already dismantled. There should have been no more time travel for any of you at this point."

"Fine by me," he replies with a strained smirk, growing impatient with the conversational seesaw that they seem to be balancing on without any end in sight. He glances down at Lucy's wide-eyed expression as she twists her locket between anxious fingers and steels himself with a fortifying breath. "If you want to debrief with us all tomorrow, we'll be there...wherever _there_ is in this timeline. But if you don't mind, Lucy has been waiting a hell of a long time for this day to come."

There's a charged pause, and then Denise relents with a stilted nod. "I'll be in contact soon. Agent Varner will give you a ride home."

Lucy is dragging Wyatt away with her in a flash, nearly ripping his one healthy arm out of its socket which would officially make him useless, but he's grinning from ear-to-ear at her enthusiasm. This is a day he's been waiting for too, after all. Her happiness had long ago become paramount to his own.

But then they come to an unexpected halt as Lucy stiffens at his side. She ignores his questioning look and turns back to catch Agent Christopher's eye from just a few feet away. "My...my mom? Is she..."

Denise frowns gently, all of her former frustration evaporating in an instant. "I'm sorry, Lucy, but she passed away some time ago...over a year now, I believe. It was - "

"Cancer?" she fills in with a shudder, blinking rapidly.

"Yes. She was already very sick when we recruited you."

Lucy nods, worrying her bottom lips between her teeth for several seconds before she musters the courage to go on. "Was she...involved? With - with, uh, Rittenhouse?"

Agent Christopher's eyebrows jump upward, signalling her lack of preparation for that particular question. "Not that I know of, but if there's something you need to tell me...?"

"Tomorrow," Lucy promises in a voice that's littered with raw emotion, "we'll talk tomorrow."

And then she's pulling on Wyatt's arm again, albeit a little more reservedly this time around. He silently muses that there's nothing they can't handle now that the worst of it is behind them, and while the news of Carol's reversed fate will certainly have its impact on Lucy, he won't make the mistake of letting it fester between them. They'll work through it together, and they'll come out on the other side even stronger than before; it's like every step they take away from the Mothership is one more step out of the darkness that's been closing in around them for so long. It's time to just let history be history, and for the present to be theirs.

And as if to punctuate that thought, Rufus lets out an excited whooping noise from somewhere behind them right before there's a clamor of screeching sparks emanating from the time machine.

They really did it. They really beat this once and for all.

* * *

"God I look awful," she murmurs as she tries to tame her hair in the reflection of the visor mirror. "Can't you go any faster? And why aren't you more nervous? You should probably be a little nervous, don't you think?"

Wyatt snickers at the rapid-fire brittleness in her voice and reaches over to tap her leg as he waits from the light to change. "You look fine for a burn-victim-time-traveler who should probably still be in the hospital. No, I can't go any faster, especially not at a red light. The police usually frown upon that. And why should I be nervous? I'm flattered, actually, not nervous at all."

"Fine _for a burn-victim-time-traveler_? Thanks a lot." She tilts the mirror to further inspect the dark smudges beneath her eyes without even bothering to glare at him. "And I still don't understand how you aren't the slightest bit concerned about meeting her for the first time when she clearly already knows you...?"

Wyatt smiles to himself and accelerates with the flow of traffic once the light turns green, shaking his head at her from his side of the Jeep and thinking that his face might just split in half for how much damn smiling he's done in the last hour.

Much to their relief, Agent Varner had dropped them off in front of the same apartment complex that they'd been living in before the jump to '79. They were less fortunate, however, to realize that neither of them had any clue as to where their keys were currently located. Wyatt had been about two seconds from just kicking the door in for the sake of saving time when Lucy had spotted the landlord from afar and waved him down with abandon. He'd taken one look at them - battered, bandaged, and bruised - and instantly believed Lucy's bogus story about losing her keys in a car crash.

Lucy had zipped inside with rapid efficiency, their landlord's well-wishes for a fast recovery falling on deaf ears. She swept through each room like a mini tornado until she had a small collection of necessary items, including both sets of keys, their cell phones, Wyatt's wallet, and a bottle of water for each of them, muttering almost inaudibly that they both sounded like they'd been smoking three packs a day for years.

Wyatt had been more than ready to tease her about that comment, but she let out a loud gasp before he could even formulate a joke, stock-still and teary-eyed as she stared down at the screen of her phone.

She had two missed calls and one voicemail, all from Amy Preston.

And now they're weaving across the city on their way to join Amy at their childhood home, a place that still haunts Wyatt's memory if he lets himself recall the one awful visit he'd made there more than a year ago. He quickly shoves that thought away, refocusing on the unsolved riddle of why they're returning to the house now that Carol is gone. Lucy had dropped the phone after hearing Amy's voice crackle across the line, barely processing the short message before she was flying out the door again - _Are you and Wyatt still meeting me at mom's place? I thought we agreed to do this together. Call me if you can't make it._

Wyatt steals another glance across the Jeep's interior now, wishing for maybe the millionth time in less than 12 hours that he wasn't confined to the damn sling. All he wants to do is take her hand and hold on with all his might until Lucy finally relaxes, but the steering wheel commands his full attention instead.

She catches his gaze and sends him a shaky smile, beautiful but unconvincing.

"I just...I just hope this goes well," she says with a fizzling exhale.

"It will, Luce." He winks at her slowly before turning his eyes back to the road. "You wanna know why I'm not nervous? There are several reasons, actually."

She chuckles quietly and flips the visor up, angling sideways to examine his profile. "Yes, please regale me with your ways, Mr. Zen Master."

Wyatt lifts a brow at that title, but doesn't hesitate to take the opening. "One - we are experts at faking it till we make it. I've lied my way through basically every decade of American history by now, and so have you. Will she think we're acting a little weird at first? Yeah, probably, but who cares? We'll get through it. We always do."

"That's a good point," Lucy mutters somewhat grudgingly.

"I know," he answers smugly. "Two - I might not know Amy yet, but c'mon...I _know_ Amy well enough to make this work."

He feels her puzzled look without even having to see it for himself.

"You talk about her all the time, Lucy. She's bold, confident, loves karate and travel and thrill rides. Everything is an adventure when she's involved. She makes the messiest s'mores you've ever eaten. She encouraged you to stand up to your mom and set your own course in life. She can talk you into doing things that you would never do under any other circumstances, like taking a risk on joining a band or dragging you out of your sleeping bag at midnight to go skinny dipping in Lake Tahoe." He pauses, slides his eyes to hers with a very deliberate smirk. "Like I could ever forget a story that involves you swimming naked."

She laughs loudly at that, flushing ever so slightly as she runs a hand through her hair.

"So yeah," he continues with a grin, "I sort of have a head start on meeting her, don't I?"

"Yeah, I guess you do," she admits with a smile sparking all the way up into her eyes.

"Reason number three - and this one is important, so don't miss it - is that I'm too happy to be nervous. She expects _both_ of us to be there, which means we're already together in this timeline too, Luce. We find each other and fall in love no matter what. I might not technically know your sister, but your sister does know me." Wyatt flips his turn signal and swings the vehicle onto a street lined with well-kept Victorian homes and weathered oak trees. "Feels like a good omen from where I'm sitting."

Lucy reaches over and squeezes his knee before murmuring, "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," he agrees quietly.

He's out of reasons to share with her but it doesn't matter, because with just one more turn and a deep breath from Lucy, they've arrived.

She freezes up for a good ten seconds once they're on the doorstep of her former home, standing rigidly with eyes closed and fists clenched at her sides, and then she abruptly charges in like she's going to battle. Wyatt follows uncertainly, barely one foot across the threshold when the sounds of the reunion erupt all around him.

"Oh my God, _Amy_!"

Lucy catapults herself down the hall, chasing after the passing shadow of a tall willowy figure with light brown hair.

"Hey - " Amy spins around to greet them, then recoils immediately. "Whoa, what the hell happened to you, Lucy? God, are you guys okay?"

"You're - you're..." Lucy's face shines with pure awe as she sweeps her sister into a massive hug. Wyatt crosses his arms and leans against the stairwell, laughing at the exchange and doing his best to memorize every ounce of Lucy's transcendent joy.

"I'm _what_?" Amy asks, her arms going around Lucy in spite of the confusion that's painted across her face. "You're the one who looks like you just escaped from an episode of Chicago Med! You too, Wyatt. Is your arm broken?"

"No, it's - "

But Amy isn't done talking, a trait that he now surmises is part of the Preston genetic code. "Seriously, guys, I thought you were done with all the dangerous espionage stuff. I mean, you know that I'm totally jealous of whatever the hell it is that the two of you do when you're on the clock, but still...I was liking the idea that there would be no more mystery injuries or annoying round-the-clock phone calls to ruin our fun."

Lucy recovers faster than Wyatt, pulling away from Amy just enough to look her in the eyes as she replies. "We were, but we just had to do one more thing and it...uh, didn't go well."

"Oh, well that's just as cryptic of an answer as I've come to expect," she says with an eye roll. "Are you sure you're okay, though? We could have put this is off if - "

" _No_ ," Lucy cuts her off in a hurry, her head shaking far too intently to pass for normal, "no, we're fine, we're staying."

Amy watches her with narrowed eyes for a half-second, then shrugs and pulls Lucy with her toward the kitchen. "Fine, but looks like it will just be me and Gavin ripping the paneling out of that spare room upstairs. You two are obviously out of commission."

"Gavin? Right, Gavin, uh huh..." Lucy's voice fades unevenly as she shoots a panicked look in Wyatt's direction.

"Oh God," Amy groans with an irritated look, "Let's skip that charade right now. Gavin is new, okay? So don't do that thing where you aren't sure if you've met him and then overcompensate once he's here just in case you've already been introduced. You haven't. We talked about this, Lucy. I met him at the hardware store, remember? We bonded over the topic of flipping houses and you told me it was very HGTV-meets-Hallmark Movie Channel."

Lucy laughs it off, but even from the other side of the room Wyatt can see the emotion building in her eyes. The sudden interruption of Amy's blaring ringtone comes at just the right time. She digs it out her pocket, informs them that it's Gavin calling for directions to the house, and then bows out of the room with a little wave as she answers the call. Lucy stands in the same spot, her feet planted with statue-like precision, watching the empty space that Amy's just vacated as if it's hallowed ground that must be protected at all costs.

And honestly, if he could read her exact thoughts, that's probably not far from the truth.

"Lucy...hey, you okay?"

She turns her head reluctantly, and there are shiny tears brimming against her black eyelashes as she nods at him. Wyatt crosses the kitchen and folds her against his chest, leaning his hip against the island and tucking his chin over the crown of her head. Her tears fall soundlessly, soaking into the fabric of his shirt as she clings to him. She's mumbling something into his chest, but he can't discern a word of it for how her mouth is muffled against him, but then the meaning becomes clear as she tilts her head higher and continues to whisper a string of the same two words over and over again, broken by nothing but the reverent addition of his name.

"Thank you. Thank you, Wyatt, _thank you_."

He's surprised at the tears that spring to his own eyes at the sound of her gratitude echoing against his neck. He leans down, leaves a tender kiss on her cheek, and presses his forehead to hers. "Anything for you, ma'am."

Her lips skim against his for a nanosecond of anticipation, then she kisses him thoroughly, teeth and tongue and a tangle of arms, her tears mingling with his as she rises on her toes to capture every last bit of him. His heart accelerates, pulse pounding in his ears, as his hand gets lost in her dark hair. An untamed heat blisters through him as she anchors her arms on his shoulders and aligns the length of her body more snugly against him. She sucks his lower lip into her mouth and he can't help it - can barely even remember where they are at this point - but the moan that comes rumbling out of his throat is a knee-jerk reaction that simply cannot be contained.

"Oh gross, not again," Amy grumbles as she enters the kitchen, a mock gagging sound filling the air as Lucy tears herself away from Wyatt with a contrite look. "I should have known better, right? It's not like you guys can ever be trusted to keep your hands off of each other for even one whole minute."

Wyatt grins sheepishly, glad to hear that his appetite for Lucy remains the same no matter how much the timeline shifts, and then his expression expands even further when he notices that Amy is grinning too.

Lucy makes a stuttering attempt at apologizing, but Amy shakes her head with a laugh and gestures toward the front door. "Chill, Lucy, you know I don't actually care. But Gavin is almost here, so try to keep it in your pants for now, okay?"

That comment only adds to the flush of pink that's climbing up Lucy's neck. Amy is halfway out of the room again before she spins toward Wyatt with an arched eyebrow. "But seriously, when are you just gonna put a ring on it, dude? You guys are _so_ married already."

She disappears down the hall without another word, leaving Lucy and Wyatt to do nothing but stare at each other, equal parts slack-jawed and magnetized.

Lucy clears her throat eventually, taking a nervous step toward him with a halfhearted shrug. "That's Amy for you, always saying whatever comes to mind and then making a dramatic exit as soon as she's done."

He nods slowly, his mouth twitching sideways.

"You, uh..." she pinches the bridge of her nose for a second, then huffs out a sigh. "We've never talked about it and I know that it's hard for you, so just ignore her, okay? We're in no rush for - for anything."

Wyatt takes her hand in his and tugs on it, bringing her to a stop right in front of him. He kisses her forehead first, then descends to her mouth and presses a long, enveloping kiss to her pliant lips. His lungs are aching when they finally come up for air, but that doesn't keep him from pulling her even closer and murmuring the truth against the shell of her ear.

"I don't know, Luce... _married_? I kinda like the sound of that."

She pulls back immediately to read his face, and he doesn't have to guess if she believes him or not. Her mouth crushing against his tells him exactly what she sees reflected in his eyes, and if her reaction is anything to go by, Wyatt has a pretty good feeling about how a real proposal will go over once he actually has the chance to plan something that's worthy of everything he feels for her.

Because this is it, the future they've earned. Amy is here, the mission is over, and Lucy is kissing him like tomorrow may never come.

But it will. They have tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that one too. There's an infinite number of days stretching out in front of them, a lifetime to spend together; he isn't losing her, not now, not ever.


End file.
